My Best Friend
by Smileyfax
Summary: Daria talks about the horrors in her best friend's life - and her own. Rated M for some extremely dark themes.
1. Chapter 1

I met Jane a few days after starting school at Lawndale High. We were both in the same self-esteem class; I suppose it should have raised a red flag when she told me she had taken the class six times, but I thought the comment was made partially in jest, or at the most an indication that the school's psychologist was especially incompetent.

My first indication that something was really, really wrong was that afternoon, at her house. We were quickly bonding over a shared love of Sick, Sad World and pizza when her brother came into the room. She had her back turned to the door, so didn't see him come in.

"Hey, Janey," he said, grabbing her shoulders and proceeding to give her an impromptu massage. "Who's your new friend?"

Jane's expression went from a mirthful smile to a painted-on rictus. "Oh, hi, Trent. I didn't know you were home. This is Daria." She began to breathe faster, almost hyperventilating.

"Daria, huh?" He gave me a sly smile. "She's a cutie, Janey. Is she staying long?"

"No, Trent, sorry, she was just leaving," she sputtered out. There was a pleading look in her eye, and I took her cue.

"Yeah, I was. See you at school tomorrow, Jane." I shouldered my backpack, noticing when I walked past that Trent's hands had stopped massaging, and had started squeezing. The way his bones pressed against his skin, and the increasing way Jane's grimace displayed agony made my stomach churn, but I kept my mouth shut and walked home as fast as I could.

I was amazed I made it that long without throwing up.

The next day at school, I attempted to breach the subject. "So, Jane, your brother seems..." I looked at her. Her face was a blank slate. She...she was biting her lip. I could tell because I could see blood starting to seep its way out. "Uh..." I hesitated, not knowing what to say. "It looks like...you put on a little too much lipstick this morning, Jane," I finally said.

Her shoulders sagged in relief, as she let up on the lip. "There's no such thing as too much lipstick, amiga," she chided me, some of the humor I had heard in her voice on yesterday's walk home from school making a comeback. She did withdraw to the bathroom, and I put my ear up to the door to hear her spitting and running the water after.

A few days after that incident, she came up to me at the beginning of lunch, and urged me to follow her into the bathroom. I obliged, wondering idly if she had found an interesting bowel movement that had gone unflushed, which would require me to stop being her friend. I had almost let myself forget what I had seen at her house.

She lifted her shirt, exposing her stomach. My breath got caught in my throat. My name was carved on her stomach (just the first name, thank God - I later shuddered at the idea of her carving 'Morgendorffer' into her flesh). "What do you think?" she asked eagerly.

My mouth opened, and I almost went with my first instinct, which would have been to scream. But I noticed other scars on her stomach which could have once been letters, letters which fit into other people's names. Other people who, no doubt, had also screamed.

I looked up into Jane's face, and it bore a hopeful smile, but I also saw the tears brimming in her eyes, already anticipating the rejection I would give her.

And I almost did reject her. But one thing stopped me. It wasn't that she had an obviously terrible home life, or that I was the first person to show signs of friendship to her in months (or longer).

It was that my name on her stomach was the most sincere gesture of wanting anything whatsoever to do with me that I had ever received.

"It's fucking cool," I finally responded.

"Really?" Jane gaped at me, the tears shocked loose by the surprise. She dropped the hem of her shirt and leapt forward to embrace me. I was embarrassed at first, but after a moment I returned the hug.

XXXXXXXXXX

I think this is going to go some pretty dark places, fair warning. 


	2. Chapter 2

When I came home from school that day, my father was home. I was surprised because, to the extent that I can remember, he has almost never been home before 6:00 before. And even then, it was the day of the September 11th attacks.

"Uh, hi, dad," I said, unsure of what I should actually say. "What are you doing home early for?"

He shrugged. "Came home early," he said. "How was school?"

I contemplated telling him the truth. "My friend carved my name into her stomach."

He nodded. I didn't think he would believe me.

I eyed the kitchen table, at which he sat. There were three empty beer bottles surrounding him already, with a fourth in his hand. "Well, talk to you later," I said lamely, not bothering to wait for a response.

My father doesn't talk very much at all. Not to me, at any rate. One time, when I was much younger, I found some old pictures of him from when he was in (presumably) the army. I tried asking him about it once, but he just turned away from me, and wouldn't look me in the eyes for nearly a month afterward.

He does the same thing whenever I ask about mom.

XXXX

One day I suggested to Jane that we get out of going to the self-esteem class. She had naturally picked up all the answers from the final exam after passing through six times, but was dubious as to actually getting out of class.

"How would I spend my afternoons?" she asked me, subtly reminding me that any time not at school would be spent at home, with her brother.

I glanced at the TV, tuned to Sick, Sad World, where a reporter was interviewing an alleged alien abductee. "UFO conventions," I said, not wanting to spend any more time at my home than Jane did at hers.

We waited until the end of next class to spring our early exit strategy onto Mr. O'Neill. He seemed reluctant at first, but once we parroted back enough of the answers (even on material he hadn't covered yet), he beamed with joy and decided to hold an assembly in our honor.

And the assembly went flawlessly, too. Except for the part where he confused brake fluid and transmission fluid, gave me Jane's self-esteem certificate to me (and vice-versa), and Jane broke down crying in the middle of her speech, being chased off-stage by that blithering idiot.

I blew off my own acceptance speech and chased after him, finding him anxiously standing in front of the entrance to one of the school's women's restrooms. I brushed past him and found Jane staring at herself in the mirror. She was still crying, but her sobs had become hiccups.

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Jane, you're hiccupping."

"Yeah, *hic* I can *hic* tell, am*hic*iga," she said.

"I'll go bring Mr. O'Neill in here and ask him about menstruation."

"WHAT? NO!" Jane shouted. Then enlightenment dawned on her face. "Oh, you were just trying to cure my hiccups." Then enlightenment dawned on her face again. "Hey, it worked!" She had also (mostly) stopped crying, so that was another bonus. I led her out of the bathroom, gave Mr. O'Neill a mention of 'womanly troubles' (causing him to faint), and Jane and I went to an arcade and shot mutants for several hours.

XXXX

"Brittany invited me to her party."

I didn't expect Jane's eyes to practically bulge out of her head. "Are you going?" she asked me in a quiet voice.

"Sure. And after that, I think I'll swallow glass," I said to reassure her.

I thought about it for a few minutes, though, and wondered why Jane had reacted so peculiarly. Instead of asking her about it, I decided to be subtle and manipulative, because God forbid I actually be up front with Jane about any of her or my issues.

"You know," I said off-handedly. "If we go to that party, we won't have to stay at home."

I could see the war waging itself across Jane's face, as her lip trembled and her eyes darted around for an escape. Finally, she nodded, a very short gesture I would have missed had I blinked. "Okay then. It's party time."

Jane got more on-edge the closer the date of the party approached, until we were standing in front of Brittany's door and she was practically hyperventilating.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked her, torn between my burning curiosity and Jane's well-being. "If you want, we can go..."

"No..." Jane suddenly hauled back and slapped herself - HARD - across her face, flipping her mood from tense to perky like a switch. "Just because these people are cliquey and snotty is no reason not to like them," she smiled, a little too widely. The red mark on her cheek was already well-defined.

I stared at this sudden change with what must have been a look of horror, but I found myself nodding in agreement. "Or hate them," I added.

We rang the doorbell and were greeted by Brittany.

"Daria, you're here. I'm so glad. Now we're even!" Then, she turned to Jane. "Oh," she said, her voice much more downbeat. "I didn't know you were bringing her," she said, referring to Jane with the same tone of voice as one refers to Hitler.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I wasn't allowed to bring guests, or best friends, or both." Jane looked startled as I admitted that, but her manic smile melted into a more natural one. I was glad.

"Hmm." Brittany frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. "What do you know about geometry?" she asked Jane out of the blue.

"Lots of circles, squares, and triangles."

"Wow! Come on in!" I chose to pretend the exchange had never happened, and followed Jane into the house.

Once inside, we hovered mainly near the snack table. A creepy redhead tried to pester us, but Jane simply made a scissors snipping gesture with one of her hands, and he backed away so quickly he knocked over a bowl of pretzels. I noticed people looking at us and talking, with the occasional hand gesture in our direction to drive home the point that we were being talked about. Jane's manic grin was back in full force, so many of her pearly whites exposed I kept expecting her to sink them into a hapless swimmer to the tune of a suspenseful orchestral soundtrack.

Finally, I got tired of all the attention (people usually don't point at me and talk until I've actually done something offensive enough to their sensibilities) and turned to Jane. "Do you have any idea why people are pointing at us and talking?"

"Oh, Daria, don't be so paranoid. Well, those two guys over there are looking at us, for sure," she said, gesturing to two men approaching.

"Hey. Partying hard, or hardly partying?" one of the jackasses said.

"Hardly interested," I muttered back. His friend tried another awful pickup line, which I shot down just as easily.

"Hey...aren't you Jane Lane?" the first guy said.

"Yeah, that's her, that's her, dude! I told you!" his friend said.

The two suddenly moved a lot closer to Jane, asshole #2 actually sliding directly between me and her. "So, Jane, you wanna go...ah, check out the laundry room, with both of us?" one of them said, about as smooth as sandpaper.

"If you want the last thing you see to be my thumbnails, you'll keep standing this close, you fucking assholes," she replied in the exact same tone, her smile stretching even wider than I had imagined it.

"Hey, fuck you, bitch," one of them said before the duo stormed off.

"Jane, what was -"

"Hey, babe! Haven't seen you outside of school in a while." Kevin Thompson. Just great.

"I'm not your babe." She was suddenly sullen - head hung, smile gone, mumbling the words she spoke.

"Huh? Oh, don't worry about Brittany, babe - she's my cheerleader babe, but you're my first babe...Hey! Where are you going?"

Jane had vanished from my side like a shot, and it wasn't until I heard several people shout in alarm that I realized she had ran straight for the doors, bowling over any guest in her way.

I followed, of course. I never expected to catch her at the speed she was going, but I found her standing just a few feet outside, her teeth bared and clenched together, fists balled tightly enough for the veins on her forearms to all stand out.

"What's the matter, Jane?" I asked her as tenderly as I could.

She spared me a glance - I recoiled a little, seeing the fury in her eyes. "That piece of shit."

"Yeah, I had gathered Kevin had done something to displease you -"

"DISPLEASE ME? DISPLEASE ME?" she roared, whipping her head around as if trying to scream in a 360-degree angle. "Displeasure is the most pleasant FUCKING THING he's ever made me feel." I suddenly noticed that a vein just under one of her eyelids was throbbing, and I was uncomfortably reminded of Mr. DeMartino.

In whipping her head around, something caught her eye, and she stormed off into the darkness. I swallowed my courage and followed her.

She stood in front of a Jeep parked in front of the Taylors' garage. The license plate read '#1QB', so it wasn't very hard to deduce whose vehicle it was. Jane gazed at it for a minute, then marched to the garage and tried one of the doors. With a grunt of triumph, she opened the unlocked door, slipped inside, and emerged a few minutes later with a large sledgehammer.

"Jane, I'm not sure that's such a good-"

WHAM!

Jane left an impressive dent in the middle of the hood.

CRASH!

There went the windshield.

SMASH! SMASH!

Hope he didn't want to drive during the night.

WHUD!

Or get in through the driver's side door.

Jane's assault on the vehicle continued for a few more minutes until her face and arms were drenched with sweat. Exhausted, she let the sledgehammer fall and staggered back towards me. She half-fell on me, and I gently took her the rest of the way down to the lawn, to rest. As we sat, I reflected how fortunate the music inside the house was turned up loud enough to damage the hearing of anybody within a half-mile radius, so nobody had heard the destruction.

"What did Kevin do to you?" I tried again, hoping that she wouldn't take the sledge back up and go after me.

"He was once my best friend," she said between panting. "When we were little, up until middle school."

"What happened?"

"He joined the Cubs - Lawndale Middle School's football team." She spat. "Everything changed then."

"Everything?"

Jane nodded. There was quite clearly a lot more she wasn't telling me, but she wasn't yet content to spill those beans.

"Am I really your best friend?" she asked me.

I nodded. "You're the only person who's ever bothered to give me more than the time of day - and even the people who would give me the time would lie on purpose."

Jane nodded, as if this did not surprise her. "If you ever betrayed me, I think I'd kill myself." With that, she pushed herself back up to her feet and back to Kevin's Jeep. For a moment I wondered what else she could possibly do to the wreck, but then she pulled down her pants and I could hear the sound of liquid splashing against the Jeep's leather seats.

I considered this for a minute, then climbed up on the Jeep, hiked my skirt up, moved aside my panties, and aided in the car wash. 


	3. Chapter 3

Several weeks after Jane and I left our mark on Kevin's Jeep, we were watching Sick, Sad World in her room. When not terrorizing Jane, her brother played in a band, and would be gone all day at a gig in Oakwood.

"Hey, amiga, know how the cyber cafe got knocked over last night?" she asked me conspiratorially during a commercial break.

"Mr. O'Neill mentioned something about it, before I stopped caring."

"Well, check this out." She lifted up the sheets on her bed, revealing several computers underneath.

My eyes bulged. "Holy shit, Jane," I gasped.

"Cool, right? I got such a thrill out of smashing up Kevin's Jeep, I decided to see if it'd be just as fun to smash some more shit. So last night, I broke out the cyber cafe's window."

"And the computers just followed you home, right?"

Jane smiled slyly. "Well, I helped them along a little. You want one?"

"Well, I generally frown upon mayhem and theft..." I examined the closest one, and noticed it was much newer than the one I had at home. "But I'll make an exception for the ability to see up to 64,000 different shades of red when I explode a zombie's skull."

I was about to pull it out from under Jane's bed when the sound of a motor that wished it was dead came from outside. From the look of horror on Jane's face, she understood the sentiment. "Oh God, the Tank!" she yelped, running to the window. I stood up and joined her.

A beat-up black van had pulled to a stop in front of Jane's house, and four men piled out of it. Three began to unload instruments; the fourth - Trent - broke away and jogged towards the house.

"Hide! Quick!" Jane urged me, pushing me towards the closet. I didn't argue with her, and pushed myself as far back into her closet as I could without punching a hole into Trent's room on the other side of the wall.

"Hey, Janey," I heard him say mere seconds after I entered. He must have been running faster than I thought.

"Hi, Trent," she replied woodenly.

"The band finished early tonight."

"What happened? Did you rub one of your groupies the wrong way and get kicked out again?"

I winced at the sound of a very loud slap, then winced again when it was repeated less than a second later. "You have a cute mouth, Janey, but you should watch what comes out of it. Want to watch the band practice downstairs?"

"I wish I could, Trent, but I have a lot of homework to do, and -'LLWATCHI'LLWATCH!"

I took a risk and came forward just enough to see what had happened. Trent had grabbed Jane by one of her earrings in each ear and had been pulling hard. He relented when Jane said okay, and grabbed her hand and practically dislocated her shoulder dragging her out of the room.

I stood there helplessly watching this all happen, feeling sick to my stomach, wishing I could have done anything, anything at all to save Jane from the moment. I couldn't discard the fact that Trent was bigger and stronger than I was, though, and if I had tried anything, he would have snapped me like a rotten twig.

I waited for several minutes. I hardly breathed, trying to listen over the jet engine pace my heart was beating at if Trent would return. Finally, the house rumbled, and what I at first mistook for an earthquake was the opening chords to...something. As I shakily made my way out of Jane's room, down the stairs, and out the front door, I reflected that what Trent and his band lacked in talent, they must make up for in incredibly loud speakers.

Before I made my way down the street, my eye caught on the van, and I remembered how cathartic Jane found the destruction of Kevin's Jeep.

Looking towards the garage, I instantly noticed (through its open door) a baseball bat tucked over to one side. I walked over and picked it up. The wood felt good in my hands.

I stood in front of the so-called Tank, leaning the bat across my shoulder. I glanced around, making sure the coast was clear.

I swallowed nervously.

I swung away.

The windshield shattered with a very satisfying CRUNCH!

I paused to admire the handiwork. I was a little startled to not hear any police sirens or shouts of protest. I looked at the bat suspiciously for a moment, then swung away again.

The bat recoiled off the passenger side door with a WHUNG!

I swung a third time. Another WHUNG off the side of the van.

I swung again, and again, and again, and soon I lost count of how many times I had struck the hated van. I began to imagine that, rather than an automobile that had seen better days, I was actually beating up Trent. Instead of denting in the bumper, I was knocking out his teeth. Cracking the side-view mirror was giving him a terrific blow in the stomach, causing him to double over and lose his breath. Knocking off the hood ornament...knocking him in HIS hood ornament. Unconsciously, I began to smile. It was a smile unlike any that had graced my face before - a crazed rictus of reckless abandon.

The smile was wiped off my face moments later when the strong hands grabbed me by the arms and pinned me against the van.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY FUCKING VAN?" the voice roared in my ear.

He plucked the bat out of my hand and spun me around effortlessly. I realized at once that it wasn't Trent - it was one of the others in his band. The bald one.

"This...this was your van?" I said, in a very meek voice.

"Yeah, whose fucking van did you think it was?" he shouted, veins in his neck bulging.

"I...I thought it was Trent Lane's van. I'm sorry."

The fire in his eyes died instantly. "Oh...you're one of Trent's girls?" His tone had lost all the anger, and I actually heard a smidgen of pity.

I opened my mouth to say 'No', but I realized if he thought I was one of Trent's girls (and it only occured to me just then that Jane might not be the only woman to have night terrors about Trent), he might not press charges, or kick my ass. So I nodded.

He appraised the van with a pained look. "It'll cost me a few hundred bucks to fix the windshield and the mirrors..." he muttered. "I don't really give a shit about the dents...not like the Tank didn't have any before, at least," he shrugged to himself.

"I...I could pay for the damage," I offered, knowing full well it would wipe out my savings.

He turned his attention back to me. "Look, just...get out of here, okay? And stay the hell away from Trent, if you know what's good for you." He avoided my stare as he frowned.

"Hey Max, where's the fucking beer?" Trent called from inside.

"Beat it!" he hissed at me. "Some dipshit trashed the Tank!" he called back to the house.

I ran all the way back home. I didn't realize until I was back in my room that I had forgotten the computer Jane had offered me, and began laughing hysterically. The laughter continued until I was short of breath, and fearing oxygen deprivation, I slapped myself until the laughter cut off like a faucet.

Then I started to cry. 


	4. Chapter 4

"Kevin...Daria will be your lab partner."

My eyebrows shot up as Ms. Barch paired me with the man Jane reviled only a little less than her own brother. I tuned out Kevin and Brittany's protests, and Ms. Barch's instructions, as it struck me that it was a perfect opportunity to grill Kevin for information. Jane was still tight-lipped on the specifics of Kevin's abuses, and we spent too much time together both in and out of school for me to interrogate one of our peers without her looming over my shoulder.

I knew (or, at least, feared) that this constant digging into Jane's private life might blow up in my face, but I guess her self-destructive recklessness was starting to rub off on me. (Or I was controlling my own less and less).

At lunch, I told Jane of the assignment, and she went stiff. "Daria, I don't think I'll be coming with you after school today," she said in a buzzing monotone. I knew her well enough that that particular tone of voice was her fighting not to scream at the top of her lungs until she ran out of air.

"Are you sure? Where will you go after school?" Code for: Are you going to experience hours of hell with Trent over this?

Jane shook her head. "I haven't been running in a while...think I'll do that for the evening." Jane could see I was dubios, so she flashed me a rare smile. "Really, it'll be fine," she assured me. I nodded, not entirely convinced.

XXXX

I led Kevin into the garage. It was practically empty; my father never bothered with home repair or car maintenance, so he owned no tools, and he accumulated very little clutter which otherwise found its way into people's garages.

I had already finished the maze and trained the mouse to run through it well before Kevin had said he would come over. The maze and its resident sat on a table, off in one corner. I had set a chair up specifically for Kevin to sit in.

"Okay, where's the maze thingy?" he asked cluelessly, unaware that turning his head a mere three inches right would bring it into view.

"We're going to work on a different experiment today, Kevin." I pulled the crystal out of my pocket and dangled it in front of his face from the simple chain I used to hang it around my neck with. "Can you keep your eye on the crystal, Kevin?"

"Ooh, shiny," he praised.

I gently began to swing it back and forth, and my tone changed into a calm, soothing one. "Kevin, I'm going to count backwards from three, okay?"

"Okay," Kevin agreed. A little bit of drool was starting to run down his chin. I made a face.

"When I reach one, you will fall into a deep sleep and answer only to my commands. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," he said, eyelids already drooping.

"Three...two...one."

Kevin's head slumped.

"...Can you hear me, Kevin?"

"Yes," he said. His voice had lost its high-pitched exuberance it usually had. This Kevin was more serious.

"Tell me about Jane, Kevin."

"Jane's this art chick who hangs out with the weird new girl. She was the first girl I ever did it with."

I frowned. "Kevin, you are eleven years old, not yet in the Lawndale Cubs. Tell me about Jane."

"Jane's, like, my best friend. She comes over to my house all the time, and sometimes she cries. I don't know why she cries, 'cause she won't tell me, so I just hug her and tell her everything's going to be all right. Dad says Jane is a really nice girl, and tells me if there's grass on the field to play ball. So Jane and I go outside and play baseball. She's real good at it too. Whenever she hits the ball she runs all the bases before I even pick the ball back up."

I shudder, revulsed at the advice Kevin's father had given him. But still, I press on.

"Kevin, let's go forward a few months. You're now in the Cubs. Tell me what you think of Jane now."

"Being in the Cubs is awesome! But I have all these practices and stuff I have to go to, and the games too, and Jane comes to those sometimes, but I don't get to see her as much. She cries more often." He frowned at that. "I wish I knew how to make her stop crying. I feel funny when I look at Jane now."

I roll my eyes, as the last thing I want to hear about is Kevin going through puberty.

"Tell me about the last time you saw Jane before she stopped being your friend. When was that?"

"It was just after the last game I played with the Cubs before I came to high school. We won! I was, like, the most popular kid ever after that. Jane was real glad for me and stuff. I really like Jane. Dad says I should sh...poop or get off the pot with her, and I don't know what he means. I asked Jane if she wanted to poop with me one time, and she just laughed and gave me a noogie. Some of the other kids on the team think I should go out with Brittany, one of the cheerleaders. Brittany's nice, and I like to look at her, but...I dunno, I really really like Jane."

"My God," I utter out loud.

Kevin kept talking. "Jane came over after the game, and I told her I was going to go out for the Lions in high school next year. I told her what the other kids said about Brittany, and she got this funny look on her face. Then she asked if I wanted to be her boyfriend, and kissed me before I could say anything." Kevin's voice lowered, almost to a whisper. "Then, she like, started takin' off her clothes and stuff, and she started takin' off my clothes and stuff, and -"

"Skip ahead to what happened after, Kevin," I quickly said, wanting to be spared the details.

"Well, I was glad that Jane was my girlfriend. It was, like, the happiest day of my life! So I told all the guys on the team."

I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "What exactly did you tell them?" I asked him.

"I told them that Jane kissed me, and she touched my you-know-what, and I put my you-know-what you-know-where, and we were boyfriend and girlfriend after that."

"Jesus H. Christ," I swore. "You fucking idiot."

Kevin frowned. "That's what Jane said. She came up to me after school that day and said she didn't want to be friends anymore." I couldn't believe my eyes as I saw silent tears streak their way down his cheeks. "I started going out with Brittany that summer."

I sat there for several minutes, absorbing the information. What a clusterfuck.

"Kevin, I want you to forget that you ever told me any of that, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded.

After that, it was simple to rouse him from the hypnotic slumber and send him on his way. All I had to do was show him the maze that 'he' completed, convince him he had nodded off afterward, and close the door after him.

I contemplated what I should do next as I gazed at the crystal myself. I had bought it on a lark from a bin full of accessories at the local Goodwill during my own middle school years back at Highland, and had worn it until moving to Lawndale, where the school dress code had prohibited it as being religious wear. (My queries as to which religion worshipped crystals went unanswered).

I decided to go out and find Jane. A little inconspicuous surveillance at the Lane home demonstrated to me that Trent was home, but Jane was not. I didn't know where Jane's runs usually took her, so I investigated our usual hangouts, among them Pizza King, Dega Street, and the hotel where UFO conventions were usually held at. I checked the running track behind the high school, the various paths which criss-crossed the park, and even hiked up to the quarry, a.k.a. the spot where everybody went to make out with their date.

Exhausted from running all over Lawndale, I found refuge in a playground, abandoned for the day by youngsters going home to loving families. (They can't all be as bad as mine and Jane's, right?) I took a seat on one of the swings, enjoying the gentle rocking motion from merely sitting there. "Where are you, Jane?" I whispered into the darkness.

"RIGHT BEHIND YOU!"

"GAAH!" Jane's scream startled me, propelling me from the swing and onto the dirt. I shot Jane a dirty look as she clutched her stomach from laughing so hard.

"Very funny, Lane," I growled, standing up and brushing dirt off my legs and skirt.

"What's funnier is I've been following you around for nearly an hour," she smirked as the laughter subsided.

"An hour? I've been walking around for nothing for an hour?"

"Not for nothing, amiga - for my amusement." She climbed into the swing next to the one I had recently vacated and gestured that I should join her. So we sat quietly together, the only sounds coming from the squeaking chains of the swings, and occasionally a breeze rustling the grass. "Beautiful night," she said of the three-quarters full moon steadily climbing into the sky.

"Mmhmm," I agreed.

"I was glad to get out running today. I sometimes forget why I love running, and then I stretch my legs and put one foot in front of the other, and I just feel like I can run forever." I glanced over and saw her gazing at something farther away than the moon. "Like I can leave Lawndale and never come back," she continued, barely above a whisper.

"Why don't you?" I prompted her.

She snapped her head towards me, her face thoughtful. I could hear my comment rattling around inside her head, as she came up with a justification.

"Because you can't run worth shit," she finally answered, smiling. She looked back up at the night sky, but stretched out her left hand towards me. I reached out my right hand and grabbed it, and together we watched the cosmos play out before us. 


	5. Chapter 5

Jane hadn't been to school in three days, and I was getting very worried. Whenever I snuck over to her house, Trent was home, and I was too chickenshit to see if I could smuggle Jane out. I did see her through the windows of her bedroom once or twice, so at least I was reassured that she wasn't dead. But it was still very worrying.

On the fourth day, as I walked home from school, the Tank pulled up next to me and I almost lost control of my bladder as Trent leaned out the window. "Hey, Daria," he said, a shark's grin on his face. "Janey and I are heading up to Swedesville for Alternapalooza, and she's just dying to have you come." He roared with laughter at his attempt at witty banter.

I was about to make a break for it when I saw Jane's head peeking out from between the van's front seats. She was shaking her head vigorously back and forth, mouthing 'No' over and over again.

Trent backhanded her, sending her out of view. "What do you say, Daria? Want to go for a ride with us?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. I have a lot of homework to do." My voice was steady, but I was gripping my book hard enough to leave indentations in the cover.

"I insist, Daria. Janey would be just so fucking disappointed if you didn't come along. It'd break her little fucking heart." All the humor had left his voice now, and I could just imagine Adolf Hitler referring to Jews in the same tone.

I looked away for a moment, to the safety of my house several blocks away. I considered that I could probably make it there easily, and if necessary I could scream as loud as I could if it looked like he was going to get me.

I thought of the casual way he had backhanded Jane without even looking at her, and approached the van.

Trent was all smiles again. "Good girl, good girl," he praised as he reached over and opened the passenger side door. I slid in and closed the door.

As Trent drove us, I looked back at Jane. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and I noticed she had a really awful black eye, as well as a swollen, discolored nose. The last thing I saw was her tongue, clamped so firmly between her teeth that she was drawing blood. I realized that her body was heaving with sobs, and she had bitten down on her tongue to prevent herself from making any noise. I tried to slip into the back, but Trent reached out and grabbed me by the throat. He shook his head and 'guided' me back to the seat.

"So! Daria!" he said, once I had buckled my seatbelt. "You and Janey go to the same school. What kind of grades do you get?"

I stared at him, too frightened to actually glare.

"I SAID WHAT KIND OF FUCKING GRADES DO YOU GET?"

"Mostly As," I spat out as fast as I could.

"Ah, a smarty-pants. Janey's a retard, she keeps getting Cs and Ds."

My courage got the better of me. "Why do you treat her-"

"Why do I treat her the way I do? What the fuck kind of question is that? Who else is going to fucking look after her? I'm all she's fucking got! Who the fuck are YOU to judge ME?" While Trent ranted, he focused solely on me, while the Tank gradually drifted to the right. Trent turned his attention back to the road just in time to prevent wrapping the van around a utility pole.

"Holy fuck," I muttered.

"Holy fuck is right." He turned back towards me again, though keeping an eye on the road this time. "Janey is MY fucking sister, not yours, so don't you fucking dare lecture me how I treat her. Not after mom and dad abandoned us." He grinned and looked at Jane in the rear-view mirror. "Who loves ya, Janey?" he asked.

"You do, Trent," she replied. If her tone were any flatter, I would have mistaken her voice box for a steamroller victim.

"That's right, and don't you ever fucking forget it."

The drive was surprisingly quiet for a while after that (save for Jane's occasional whimpering). I occasionally looked back at her and wished I could do something, but Trent just shook his head whenever he thought I was going to make a leap back there.

I felt a warm presence on my thigh. I looked down in horror to see Trent's hand just below the hemline of my skirt. I slapped it away, recoiling from his touch. "What the FUCK?" I shouted.

Instead of exploding in rage, though, Trent merely laughed. "Oh, I love it when they fight. Tell you what, Daria. Go back and play doctor with Janey." I nodded curtly and slipped into the back of the van as fast as I could, almost missing him make a very rude gesture to drive home the double entendre.

Jane looked at me through her one good eye, miserable. "Why did you come?" she whispered, tearing up again.

"I'm not going to let you face him alone," I answered, fighting my own tears.

"Damnit, amiga." I sat next to her, and she wrapped her arms around me, and we began to weep together.

Until I realized I had sat on something.

"What am I sitting on?" I asked aloud. I stood up, allowing Jane to peel whatever it was off.

"Looks like a sandwich," she said.

Trent looked at us from the rear view mirror. "Eat it, Janey."

"I'm not really hungry, Trent..."

Trent glared at her, then swerved off the road and slammed on the brakes, nearly causing Jane and I to fly off the 'seat' (which was just an old trunk).

"I said eat it, Janey, or you can walk home."

I knew by now that this was no idle threat, and Jane sure as hell knew it wasn't an idle threat. She gulped, then tentatively took a bite of the sandwich. She made a revolted face as she chewed the stale bread, gritty with dirt, and tasted the awful warm, congealed jelly and fought against the nearly petrified peanut butter. Trent watched with a grin on his face as Jane suffered through bite after excruciating bite. All I could do was hold her hand.

Finally, she gulped the last of it down. "Attagirl," Trent said, and we continued on our journey.

As we came closer and closer to Swedesville, I kept running all the revenge fantasies through my head which I had written when all I had to deal with were moronic classmates. Absolutely none of them (at least, none of the ones that didn't require explosives) would have been effective against Trent. And anyway, I wouldn't have been able to do most of those plans regardless, since I'm just a 16-year-old girl and not an international superspy.

I hated being so helpless. I felt that when the van finally stopped, something very unpleasant would very likely happen to Jane, and myself as well. The only plan I could come up with which had the barest chance of succeeding involved rushing up behind his seat, reaching around, and clawing his eyes out with my fingernails, and that relied on him not being faster than me, and also the van not getting into a major wreck while he flailed about blinded.

For the first time in my life, I prayed. Dad was never a religious man - spending most of his Sundays drinking himself into a stupor - so I didn't have any framework, but I still tried, damnit. Jane saw my head bowed and hands clasped together, and she followed my lead. We stayed like that until we finally arrived at Swedesville.

"Okay, time to get the hell out," Trent said, sliding out of the van. Jane and I exchanged a worried look, but we opened the side door and bravely stepped out.

The parking lot looked very un-Alternapalooza-ish.

Trent pressed a few hundred dollar bills into Jane's hand. "Go get your thing done, Janey. I'll be back whenever."

He drove off without us. I was a little stunned. "What's going on, Jane?" I finally asked.

She refused to answer me, instead walking towards the building at the far end of the parking lot. "Jane? Hey, Jane?" I followed along after her, becoming worried that she wasn't answering me.

It was only a minute or two until I realized what the building was, and what was happening, and put my arm around her to comfort her. We made our way through the ring of picketers; one older man leaned in towards Jane's face and screamed "MURDERING WHORE!" before we passed him and broke through the other side of the ring.

The receptionist was shocked to see Jane in her beaten state, and called the doctor immediately. The doctor was very nice, cleaning Jane's wounds as she asked what had happened. When Jane refused to answer, she didn't press the issue.

She allowed me to stay in the room while she performed the procedure.

Afterwards, Jane and I waited inside the clinic until the sun had lowered considerably in the sky and the protesters had mostly dispersed. We waited out in the parking lot after that, waiting until well after the sun had fully set, but Trent never returned to pick us up.

We ended up having to hitchhike home, arriving at my place just before 5 AM. We decided we wouldn't be going to school that day.

We decided to share beds, and amazingly enough I didn't fall asleep the instant my head hit the pillow. "Hey, Jane?" I asked in a gentle whisper. "Why don't you stay here for...for the rest of the...forever." I finally spat it out.

Jane sighed, and I could hear the longing in it. "He always finds me, Daria. He always finds me and brings me back home." 


	6. Chapter 6

One weekend in April, sometime before sunrise, my father came into my room and woke me up.

"Whazzit?" I muttered, still mostly asleep.

"Get ready to leave in a few hours, Daria. We're going camping."

"Camping? Zzz...what?" I nearly nodded off in the middle of the sentence, under the belief I was actually still asleep and it didn't matter.

"We're going camping," my father repeated.

"Huh? Why?" I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. This was the longest conversation I could recall having with my father in the past several years.

"Take a shower and get dressed." He left without answering my question.

I yawned and put on my glasses, still a little unsure if I was dreaming. Midway through my morning ablutions, I finally woke up and realized I was supposed to help Jane dodge going to her family reunion today. She was going to go with Trent (which was bad, naturally), but she confessed that she dreaded to see her Uncle Max. "He likes to pinch me," she told me, shame in her tone of voice. Given Jane's tight-lipped nature on the abuses she took, that astonished (and horrified) me.

Spitting out the toothpaste in my mouth, I went downstairs, where dad was eating plain oatmeal for breakfast. "Can my friend Jane come too?"

He looked at me for a moment, then nodded. "You'll have to share a tent," he informed me."

"That'll be fine." I slunk back upstairs, relieved.

XXXX

"Daria, wake up. We're here."

"Mm?" I realized I had fallen asleep and had the mortifying realization I had been using Jane as a pillow. "Oh God, I'm sorry, Jane," I apologized. She looked more amused than annoyed, but I was no less embarrassed.

"Come on, sleepyhead, let's stretch our legs." We got out of the car and found that my father had already taken the backpacks out of the trunk. Once we had all shouldered one, we got out on the trail and began the long hike to the camp site.

It was a mostly quiet hike. Jane tried to make conversation with my dad a few times, asking him what he did for a living ("Consulting,") or what he thought of Lawndale ("It's nice.") She gave up after a few more one-word replies, giving me a questioning look.

We set up our tent, and dad set up his. After trading a look, Jane and I approached him. "So now what do we do?" I asked.

He shrugged slightly. "Let's gather some firewood." Together, the three of us did minor chores around the campsite for a few hours. Finally, dad grunted and said we could go off exploring a little. "Stay in sight," he warned. Jane and I nodded, and wandered off a bit into the forest. After just a short walk, we found a nice tall rock and climbed up on top of it. It afforded a nice view, and was in sight of camp, so we loitered there for a while. Jane pulled a six-pack of Ultra Cola from her backpack, and both of us took a can and opened it.

"I wish I had a sketch pad," Jane said as we admired the view.

"I didn't know you drew," I said.

Jane looked a little surprised and shook her head. "Oh...I don't."

"Then why do you want a sketchpad?"

"No...no reason. Nevermind." Jane avoided my eyes, then changed the subject. "What's with your dad?"

I shrugged. "He's been that way as long as I can remember. Actually, except for this camping trip. When I was younger, I had to practically beg him to have him take me anywhere; after a while, I stopped bothering. This is the first time he's taken me any place at all since I was twelve."

Jane nodded. "And your mom?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I...think she's alive, but he never talks about her."

Jane frowned while handing me another Ultra Cola. She popped a second one open herself. "Don't you even know what she looks like?"

"Yeah. I snuck into dad's stuff one day while he was at work, and found a picture of her holding a baby. I'm pretty sure it's her...at least, she looks a little like me. I suppose that would make the baby me. I asked him if my hair was really red when I was that young, and he stiffened up and wouldn't talk to me for a month after. So I guess he was upset I took the picture, but he didn't ask for it back."

"He didn't talk to you for a month?"

I nodded my head. "He bottles up whenever I ask him about anything before I came along, like when I asked him about his time in the military, or anything about my grandparents."

Jane thought about this for a minute. "Still better than my family." I could only nod in agreement.

The sun was starting to set, and Jane handed me my third Ultra Cola, while she held the third. On impulse, I clinked my can against hers. "A toast," I proposed.

"A toast to what?" Jane asked.

"Turning eighteen and putting as much space between ourselves and our fucked-up families as possible."

"I'll drink to that." With that, we both popped our tops and began to drink.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

The furious roar shook us both, and the cans slipped out of our hands. We whipped around, and there stood my dad, eyes wide, face red, nostrils flaring.

"D-d-drinking some coke," Jane stuttered out. I nodded in concurrance.

He stared unblinking at us for a moment longer, then closed his eyes and rubbed the side of his face. "Just...just be sure to clean up afterward. Dinner soon." He had gone from furious to placid in an instant, and I couldn't help but watch him until he had retreated all the way back to camp.

"What the fuck was THAT about?" Jane hissed, the look of terror still etched on her face.

"I don't have a fucking idea," I said, my voice still shaking a little. My arm also shook as I bent down to retrieve the now-empty can (its contents having spilled when I dropped it). Jane picked up her empties too, and took mine and put them into her backpack.

Dinner was a can of franks and beans. Dad's go-to no-effort dinner was always franks and beans. I ate only enough to stave off starvation, as they had a terrible effect on my digestion. Jane ate two large bowlfuls.

We went to sleep shortly afterward, but I woke up a few hours later to find out that the beans had the same effect on Jane as they did on me. Fleeing the chemical weapon that was her ass, I found dad sitting outside, still awake. The time on my watch said it was nearly two in the morning. "What are you doing up, dad?" I asked.

"Thinking about my father."

"My grandfather?"

He nodded. "He took me camping once. Spent the night downing most of a brewery, and screamed himself hoarse at me when I asked when we were going home."

I noticed that he was surrounded by empty beer bottles first, way more than he usually drank at one sitting. The second thing I noticed was that his eyes were puffy and red. I turned away, embarrassed to realize he was emotionally naked.

"He drank beer out of cans, and when I heard you and your friend opening those cans, I...I was ten again, and terrified to leave the tent to go potty 'cause an animal would eat my peepee. That's what Mad Dog told me."

It took me a moment to realize that Mad Dog was what he called his father. I wondered at the genesis of the nickname, but I didn't want to say anything more than absolutely necessary.

"I...I overheard you telling Jane what a shitty father I am."

"Dad, you're not-"

"I've...I've been trying, Daria, God knows I have. I took you camping, and I do the same damned thing the Old Man did. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me."

"I...I don't hate you, dad. I...l-love you." I stumbled over the word, but I managed to say it.

He started to cry again. "You deserve better!" he quietly moaned. "You deserve better!"

I thought of Jane. "Dad, I could do a lot worse than you. I'm...I'm glad I have you."

He only cried harder after that, and couldn't talk anymore. I sat up with him until he finally passed out, exhausted. I took a blanked out of his tent and tucked him in, then made sure the fire was well extinguished before I got back into my own tent (which had thankfully aired out by that point).

XXXX

"Breakfast, Daria!" Jane announced, as she dropped something into my open mouth.

"Blaggxkh!" I almost gagged on the object, spitting it out. It was some sort of berry. "Where did you get those?"

"I found them on the other side of that big rock we sat on. They're really good!" She popped a few into her mouth and chewed them slowly, moaning to emphasize how delicious she thought they were. She held her hand out.

I reluctantly took a few and nibbled on one. It wasn't bad. I bit into it. My mouth began to tingle pleasantly. "Mmm, not bad," I judged. "They should put these on the pizzas at Pizza King."

Jane smiled and opened her mouth to respond. Then, her eyes became unfocused and she became slack-jawed. She whipped her head around, looking for something unseen.

She dashed out of the tent, stopped in the middle of the camp, and began screaming at the top of her lungs. I clambered out of the tent just as dad jerked up from his slumber. He saw Jane still screaming (and now also flailing about) and rushed over. She tried to batter him away, but his superior strength managed to restrain her arms. "Daria!" he called. "Help me hold Jane down!" His voice lacked none of the emptiness it usually held; this was a Command. I moved to Jane's side without a second's hesitation and grabbed her arm; dad let that one go and used his new freedom to push Jane down onto the ground.

"Do you know what happened?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "No, she was just eating some berries, and she started screaming."

"Berries? Show me."

I left Jane and ran back to the tent, where the handful of berries Jane had dropped still lay. I scooped some up and rushed back.

Dad was staring at Jane's stomach, a look of astonishment on his face. In her flailing, her shirt must have gotten pulled up, and my name - now written in scar tissue instead of fresh gashes - was plainly displayed. He looked up at me and, instead of demanding an explanation, asked for the berries. I handed them over, and he examined them quickly.

"Daria, these are highly toxic and hallucinogenic. If we don't get Jane to a hospital soon, she might die."

"Die?" I said in a tiny voice. Then, I realized I had eaten them too. "Dad, Jane gave me some, and I ate them."

"Daria?" His voice was suddenly very far away, and the world started to melt. 


	7. Chapter 7

I woke up in a hospital bed. I ached all over, but I was apparently alive and (after a quick check), all of my limbs seemed to be in working order. Dad was in a chair in the corner of the room, his head slumped down, asleep.

"Dad?" I called out to him, my voice a little rough.

He awoke with a start. "Daria," he said, relief in his voice. "I should have told you to check with me before eating any strange plants."

"It's okay. It was either that, or Jane stinking up my tent again," I kidded. He didn't respond. "Dad?"

"I don't want you hanging out with Jane any more, Daria," he said.

My blood ran cold. "What?" My voice was raised. "Why not?"

He looked pained. "When you told me what...what Jane had done to herself before, I didn't believe you, Daria, because I knew you liked saying extreme things to try to get a rise out of me. But when I saw she had actually DONE it, I...only then did I realize what a bad influence she is on you."

"A bad influence?" I was dumbstruck.

He nodded. "You hardly come home before curfew any more, sneaking in at all hours of the night. Just the other week, you came home just before sunrise."

"...Since when do I have a curfew?" I asked, surly. "No, really, you've never mentioned it before."

"I shouldn't have HAD TO, Daria!" he shouted at me, his mood worsening at the same rate as mine. "I thought you were a smart girl! It's a good thing Jane's brother told me about his sister's behavioral problems -"

"Wait. You actually listened to her brother?"

"Of course I did. He told me all about her arrest record, and -"

"You BELIEVED HIS SHIT?" I screamed.

Dad was silent for a moment. Then, "You're not to see Jane again. That's final."

"Go fuck yourself."

His hand flew towards my face...and stopped, inches away. He stared at me, furious, his whole body trembling. Then he stomped out of my room without another word.

I started breathing again, and sat up. I found the clothes I had been admitted in in a drawer next to my bed, and got dressed as well as I could before disconnecting the instruments connected to my body. Once I had done so, I slipped out of the room as the machines announced my death, evading the nurses who came to attempt to revive me as I found a stairwell and slipped out one of the hospital's side entrances.

I was at Cedars of Lawndale, in the heart of the city. It was a simple matter to hop a bus back to my neighborhood (thankful that an orderly hadn't swiped the change from my pockets), and from the bus stop I went to Jane's house.

Trent was home.

I no longer cared.

I quietly made my way to the back of the house, finding the door there unlocked. Trent wasn't in the kitchen, nor was he in the living room. (Jane was in neither of those places as well). I slowly made my way up the stairs, heart pounding at the slightest 'squeak' of wood against wood. Finally, I reached the top of the stairs and tip-toed towards Jane's room.

Jane lay with her back to me, curled into a fetal position. "Jane," I quietly called to her. She jerked her head around and sat up.

"Daria, you shouldn't be here!" she hissed as loudly as she dared. I noticed the hospital bracelet still on her wrist. "You've got to go, before Trent wakes up!"

I knelt in front of her. "I want to see if I can run as good as you."

She stared at me for a moment before comprehension dawned in her eyes. She grabbed her backpack, emptied out the books, and shoved a few clothes and some money from a hole in her mattress into it, and we turned towards the door to her room.

Trent was there, shaking his head. "Daria, you know your father is rather sore with you right now? Seems you two had a rather nasty fight at the hospital, and then you escaped." He held up a cordless phone in one hand. "I just got off the phone with him. He should be here in about five minutes."

He walked over to Jane and took the backpack from her hands, which had suddenly lost all strength. He opened it and emptied the contents at her feet. "What's this?" he said as he spied the money Jane had shoved at the bottom. "You've been hiding a little nest egg from me, Janey?"

"No, I-"

Trent cut her off with a blow to her stomach. Jane doubled over, coughing. He turned to me. "Let's go wait downstairs for Jake to arrive, shall we?" After leaving Jane's room, he locked it from the outside and smirked at me.

The five minutes was more like half an hour, and Trent spent the entire time just staring at me. His gaze felt like maggots just under my skin, but my continued association with him was making my ability to repress vomit better by the day.

The drive home was completely silent. I didn't want to say anything to dad, and he didn't want to say anything to me. At home, he gestured I should go upstairs to my room, which was redundant since I intended to go up there anyway.

After an hour, I heard him began to work on the door, and I suspected I was getting an additional lock on the outside, so that I wouldn't be able to sneak off at night and be corrupted by the evil Jane. A little while after that, I was surprised to see him outside my window, on a ladder and replacing the old bars which had been sawn short by the previous owner before vacating the house.

I guess he didn't want to take any chances.

Around dinner time, he knocked on the door to my room. I opened it, and he handed me a tray of single-serve lasagna and a glass of water before shutting the door and securing the lock. No more dinners at the table, then.

A little while later, I knocked on the door (after finding it still locked) until dad said, "Yes?" from the other side.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

He opened the door and I went and used the facilities. After leaving, I stood in front of him before returning to my room. "You know, Dad, I would tell you why you shouldn't believe Trent, but then, that'd just be me saying something extreme to try to get a rise out of you."

His face was impassive, and I returned to my room and, after staying up and reading (and fuming) for a while, I went to sleep.

The next day Tommy Sherman came to school. 


	8. Chapter 8  WARNING: EXTREMELY DARK

My father drove me to school the next day, and handed me off to DeMartino. I had expected him to call ahead and let the school know I wasn't to associate with Jane anymore.

I didn't expect what would happen once my father was out of sight.

"Miss Lane is waiting for you in HOMEroom, Miss Morgendorffer. Do not dissapoint her," he informed me.

"What?" I was put off guard by his statement. "But I thought..."

He put a hand on my shoulder. "Despite what you may think of my colleagues and I, we're not all bumbling MORONS, Daria. A lot of us have SEEN the effect you have on Miss Lane - her GRADES have improved for the first time in YEARS, and she no longer LOOKS like she wants to open her WRISTS again."

I frowned. "What about Ms. Li?"

He grinned. "You let ME worry about that. Now go."

I nodded gratefully and walked to homeroom as fast as I dared. I stopped in the doorway and saw Jane sitting there, despair in her countenance, until she noticed me and lit up like the Las Vegas Strip. We bridged the gap between each other and embraced.

"Feisty!"

"Shut up, Upchuck," we said simultaneously.

XXXX

After that first class, we made our way to our lockers (Jane's first) to trade out books for English. Upon approaching my locker, we noticed somebody (nobody I recognized, at any rate) leaning against my locker. I didn't notice Jane had stopped walking by my side. "Excuse me," I said, hoping he would take the hint and move.

The man turned towards me, and I noticed his nose looked like it had been broken one too many times. "You're kidding, right?" he scoffed. "You think I'm going to talk to you?"

I opened my mouth to give him a verbal lashing, but then he looked past me...at Jane.

"Is that...could that be little Janey Lane?" he asked, surprised. He brushed past me, and I noticed that Jane was standing stock-still, staring straight ahead. "It is! How the hell are you, Jane? How's your brother?" Jane was unresponsive. "I haven't seen the two of you in a long time...going on four years, actually." He smirked, and caressed her cheek. "You still have a damn cute mouth, Jane, you know that? Tell you what..." He fished a napkin out of his pocket and jotted down his number. "Have Trent call me up later, and we'll work something out. I got enough money...maybe we can spend the whole weekend together." He leered at her, then glanced at me. "Maybe bring your uggo friend too, in case you still wear out too easy." He chuckled to himself. "In the meantime, Janey, I'm going to go check out my new goal post, and read my plaque." He patted her on the ass as he left.

Jane hadn't changed expression, or even moved once, during the encounter with the man who had to be Tommy Sherman. After he left, though, she began trembling, and tears streamed down her face.

"Come on, Jane. Let's go spend the rest of the day on the roof, and then we'll go hop a train -"

That's when we heard the strangled yell. "The goal post fell! Tommy Sherman's dead!"

"What?" Jane asked aloud, disbelieving. She made her way to the football field, and I followed right behind her.

The sight of Tommy Sherman's body was gruesome. The fallen goal post had apparently struck the top of his skull with enough force to crack it open like an egg, and the contents (more than I would have given him credit for) spilled out like yolk. Other students flocked to see what had happened; some cried, some looked like they were going to vomit, some went ahead and vomited. (Kevin was one of the latter group).

Jane chose none of the above. She took several halting steps towards the body, and stopped right at his head. "Do I still have a cute mouth?" she asked him. Then she began viciously stomping his face - the crunch of bone and cartilege breaking was gruesome, and Jane's blows were also tearing through skin. "DO I STILL HAVE A CUTE FUCKING MOUTH, YOU FUCKING BASTARD?" She moved down the body and delivered several blows to his crotch. I'm sure the shock of the pain would have killed him, had he still been alive.

Finally, she ceased her attacks. I put my arms around her, and she began crying and laughing all at once. The other students looked on in horror at what Jane had done.

I took one last look at Sherman's body, and spat upon it.

We were back in the school for three whole minutes before Ms. Li's furious voice rang out on the PA. "LANE AND MORGENDORFFER TO MY OFFICE NOW!"

XXXX

Ms. Li managed to scream at us for a good five minutes. After that, she ran out of steam, and poured herself a glass of water. While she drank, my father arrived. "What happened?" he asked.

"Your daughter -" She pointed at me, and I noticed her voice was hoarse from the yelling. "- helped Miss Lane defile the body of one of this school's greatest alumnis moments after his death. This was AFTER you instructed us to keep them separate, I add."

"What's their punishment?" he asked. Always to the point.

"Miss Morgendorffer will be suspended for the remainder of the school year. Miss Lane is expelled, and her brother can make arrangements to enroll her somewhere else. You can bet that Sherman's family will be pressing charges, and the school will fully back them up."

Jake nodded. "Come on, Daria," he gestured. I followed, not really having a choice.

The drive home was silent, as I expected. I didn't expect the detour to the burger place. After ordering at the drive-through, he handed me one of the bags, parked, and pulled one of the burgers out of his bags.

"Daria, I...overreacted yesterday. Badly."

I nodded.

"I'm going to trust you now, Daria, but if I find you've lied to me, I'll never be able to trust you again. Do you understand?"

I nodded again. My mouth had gone dry.

"Tell me about this Tommy Sherman, and why I shouldn't trust Trent."

I told him.

The food in my lap had grown cold by the time I finished. Dad had wrapped his hands around the steering wheel, his knuckles pure white from gripping it so hard.

"So, you know Trent has been abusing his sister. You suspect the abuse is sexual. You strongly suspect he's been..." He swallowed. "...pimping her out - to Tommy Sherman for sure, and possibly to others."

I heard his breathing speed up, and the steering wheel began to creak. "And he touched you."

"Yeah."

"I'm going to fucking kill him."

I put my hand on his arm. "Dad...don't. I don't want you to go to prison over this."

"God DAMN IT, DARIA! What the HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?" He punctuated every other word by striking the steering wheel with his balled-up fist. "You said that Jane won't rat her brother out, and the bastard's good enough to fool all the important people - he fooled ME, for Christ's sake!"

I didn't know what to tell him. It was a problem I had been working over in my mind for the several months I'd known Jane, and a solution still hadn't occured to me. And now time was very short - if Jane was shunted off to another school, I might never be able to find her, especially if Trent decided to just pull up roots and leave the city.

"I...I'll think of something," I told him. We hugged (as well as we could in the cramped quarters of the front seat of his car) and we drove home.

That night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I was jerked awake by an idea. If Jane wouldn't testify...

I quickly got dressed and ventured out toward the Lane home.

XXXX

Several hours later, I staggered into the ER of Cedars of Lawndale. I staggered up to the attending nurse. "I've been raped."

A police officer took my statement. I was going over to my friend Jane's house. Just outside it, I was assaulted, and...

A nurse came in afterward. She instructed me to undress, taking my torn jacket and shirt and skirt (my wrecked underwear being in the jacket's pockets). Once I had done so, she ran a rape kit on me, collecting a DNA sample and taking photographs of my injuries. She flushed my wounds around my vagina and anus, and also tended to the various cuts and scrapes on my arms and legs, and the cigarette burns around my breasts. I was given a dose of the 'morning after' pill, as well as a sedative, and put into a hospital bed to rest.

My father came in three hours later - eyes red, face puffy, and tears still streaming down his cheeks. "Oh Daria -" was all he managed to say before he crushed me to him in a fierce hug.

Less than 24 hours later, I was released from the hospital, along with a prescription to keep taking the morning after pill for a week. Dad kept pressing me for details, dying for me to give him the word to eviscerate Trent, but I only told him exactly what I told the cops - no more, no less.

Two days after I was released from the hospital, the police requested I go to their station, as there were important developments in the case.

The DNA they had collected from me belonged to a known sex offender who had seveeral convictions already on his record. They assured me he would not be eligible for parole until my grandchildred had died of old age.

I thanked them, and when I got home I locked myself in the bathroom and sobbed angrily. I had dug the used condom from the Lane trash can and mauled myself horribly for nothing. 


	9. Chapter 9

I awoke to the feel of cold steel against my jugular vein. I looked up, and I could just barely see that it was Trent, from the moonlight shining in through the window.

"They arrested my friend Jack earlier tonight," he informed me. "Seems he raped you." He grinned humorlessly. "It took me a while to figure it out, you know. Nice trick, pulling the condom out of the trash. I'm impressed you managed to beat yourself up convincingly." He began to caress my neck with the blade in his hand. I pissed myself.

"I know Jack, Daria. He's going to spill his fucking guts. He's going to tell the cops all he knows about me, and that would normally be enough to send me to prison until I'm a shriveled up old man." He held the knife still, and I was sure this was the part where he bled me out.

Instead, he kept talking. "The thing is, Daria, I'm not going to prison for a very long time. Oh, sure, I won't be able to avoid it altogether, but I've got this real smart lady lawyer on retainer, and she's real good, and she's sure she'll be able to make a deal with the DA. You see, Janey's big business for me. A lot of people have enjoyed her company, and I made damn sure to get proof of as many of them as I could, on the off chance that something like this ever happened."

He knelt down, so that he was almost at eye level with me. "In a way, Daria, I'm glad this happened. You'll make sure that Janey gets the help she needs, and her life will get better and better." He chuckled. "Then, when I get out of prison in a few years, breaking her back in will be so much fun. And the things I'll do to you..."

He darted in and smashed his lips against mine, his tongue trying to force its way past my clenched teeth. After a few moments, he pulled back. "Was that your first kiss, Daria?" I refused to answer; after a moment, the blade pressed harder against my throat, and I nodded, tears streaming down my face. "You never forget your first," he sagely told me. With that, he stood up and left.

What did I do? I changed my nightgown and my sheets, and made sure to spray some cleaner on the mattress and paper toweled it up before putting on the new bedding. I was too unnerved to call the police.

XXXX

True to his word, Trent had managed to ensnare a lot of people into his web of sin. While most of them were repeat offenders like the man who had 'raped' me, some were outstanding members of the community. There was Lester Gupty, a local businessman and highly-regarded member of his church. Ken Edwards, a substitute teacher who covered Lawndale and Oakwood's school districts. Another teacher, Coach Morris, taught women's gym and coached most of the womens' teams at Lawndale.

Tommy Sherman was outed posthumously and, although he would never go to trial, Lawndale High was quick to chop down his 'memorial tree' and rescind the punishments Jane and I had been given.

One of the accused was Doug Thompson, Kevin's father. I was compelled to sit in the audience of his trial; when it came time for him to testify, he repeatedly insisted that he had only paid for Jane's services once, and had her sleep with his son Kevin to celebrate graduating middle school and becoming the Lions' star quarterback.

By that time, Jane was living with us under the terms of her probation and (real) psychological counselling; dad had fought hard to be given guardianship rights to her until she completed her probation, at which time she intended to go for legal emancipation.

After his father's conviction, Kevin came over to the house, flowers in hand. "Uh, hi, Daria. Can I see Jane?"

I looked him over. He looked like hell. He had discarded his usual football getup for a simple black t-shirt and worn-looking jeans, and with ample cause - he, along with a good third of the team, had been suspended for the rest of the school year and banned from playing Lawndale High football forever due to their liaisons with Jane.

"I don't think she wants to see you right now, Kevin," I said diplomatically.

"Okay..." Kevin hung his head in disappointment. "It's just that...I asked mom what I should do if I do something bad to a girl I like, and she said I should give her flowers. I was gonna ask dad what he'd do, but he...he did that...that bad stuff..." Kevin was unable to speak above a whisper as he referred to what his father had done.

He looked back into my eyes, and I could see him fighting the tears. "Did he really...you know...do it with Jane?"

I very tentatively reached out and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I don't know, Kevin. I've never met him, but from what I've heard -" From the time I hypnotized him, anyway. "- He seems like a very disturbed man."

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, I guess. It's just...I thought Jane liked me, you know? And it was all dad..." He bit his lip, and several tears spilled out down his face.

"Kevin, Jane was your friend years before your father did...that bad thing. I'm sure she liked you very much, and it broke her heart when she couldn't be friends with you anymore."

He sniffled. "Do you...do you think she might want to be friends with me again someday?"

"That's...something you'll have to talk to her about, I think."

"Okay. Well, at least tell her I got her these flowers." He handed them to me and walked away, hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground. I took them to the kitchen, put them into a vase with water, and took it up to my room, where Jane had been staying with me. I told her about Kevin, and she was quiet for a while after that. Then, she took one of my blank notebooks, borrowed a pencil, and began sketching the flowers.

XXXX

The only trial I attended besides Kevin's father's was Trent's. As I expected, it was just a formality for his sentencing - two years with no parole. The bastard wouldn't even be put onto the sex offenders list.

"Mr. Lane, do you have anything else you would like to say?"

He glanced around the courtroom and spied me, sitting in the back. He flashed a smirk. "As a matter of fact, your honor, I do."

He stood up and turned to face me directly. And began to sing. "I'll be seeing you...in all the old familiar places...that this heart of mine embraces...all day through..."

I stood up and ran for the exit, followed by Trent's laughter.

I sat outside the courthouse for a while, until my nerves had settled down. As I began to leave to make my way to the bus stop, I noticed a woman walk to an SUV in the parking lot. I recognized her as the woman - the 'real smart lady lawyer' who had sat next to Trent at his sentencing. On impulse, I changed course to intercept her. I wanted to find out if she knew what kind of a sick fuck she had been practicing.

"Excuse me," I said.

"Yes?" She turned around to face me.

She was the woman in the photograph I had stolen from my father.

"...Are you my mother?" I asked in a whisper.

She looked confused for a moment, then her eyes and mouth widened in shock. "...Daria? My baby?"

XXXXXXXXXX

And thus concludes My Best Friend!

You know, for a while, I considered having Jane be 'evil' as well, in that she and Trent were drawing Daria into their psychosexual 'Cruel Intentions'-ish relationship, but not even I was willing to go there.

I do hope the ending wasn't too abrupt for everybody. Not the cliffhanger aspect, mind - that part's intentional. But I mean the whole rest of the chapter. Mainly, I'm worried that it's 'cheaty' that I said Daria's fake rape had no effect at the end of the last chapter, and then I did a total 180 and it totally nailed Trent in this one.

In the sequel (what kind of an ass would I be to leave an ending like THAT hanging?), Jake will be the protagonist, and we'll get to find out more about his pre-Daria life, and especially more about Helen.

And there will be angst. 


	10. Chapter 5 and a half

"He always finds me, Daria. He always finds me and brings me back home."

I frowned. "Have...has anybody ever tried calling the police on him?"

Jane nodded. "Trent's really good at getting out of trouble. He has a few cop friends, and they never let him stay inside very long. Any time he does get arrested, he just takes it out on me later."

"What about..." I thought desperately for a solution. "What about social services? Child protection?"

Jane shook her head, her face crumpling in sorrow. "Trent's learned to lie really good over the years. One lady from CPS was sure he was the Antichrist until she met him, and..." Jane began leaking tears and snot onto my pillow case. I did not mind. "And she yelled at me for trying to get my brother in trouble after. I never trusted anybody else after that..." She sniffled and wiped her sleeve across her nose. "Except you, amiga."

"Oh Jane," I sighed. I pulled her close to me, and entangled together we fell asleep just as the rays from the morning sunrise shone through the window.

XXXXXXXXXX

As requested, here is a scene explaining in-story why Daria and Jane don't rush off to the cops. It's a direct continuation of the scene at the end of chapter 5 (the one where Jane got an abortion), and it seemed like the best place to fit this scene.

I recalled another plot thread I had considered for this story, but dropped: Originally, instead of faking her rape, Daria was going to come onto Trent and collect his semen much more directly. However, I realized that this story's Trent would be much too savvy for that; he'd realize what was going on, and, well, do something distinctly unpleasant to Daria, I imagine. 


	11. AU: My Best Slayer 1

What follows is a My Best Friend/Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover, written for the 'Trent Lane Must Die!" Iron Chef challenge on the PPMB. It's brief enough that I don't think it warrants its own thread. Enjoy!

XXXXXXXXXX

Jane eyed the new librarian as he nervously approached her. His demeanor reminded her a lot of Mr. O'Neill, except he was a lot older, and wore glasses and a tweed coat.

"Miss Jane Lane?" he asked hesitantly. Jane nodded in confirmation. "My name is Rupert Giles, and I was hoping I could have a word with you."

Jane nodded and followed along behind him resignedly.

He led her to the library, where he sat her down. "What do you know about vampires?" he began.

"Avoid the sparkly ones?" she replied, shrugging.

Giles cracked a rueful grin. "Real vampires, Miss Lane."

"About as much as I know about real leprechauns."

Giles sighed, removed his glasses and began polishing them. Another difficult Chosen One.

"Miss Lane...in every generation, there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer."

Jane stared at him for a long moment before nodding. "You're from my brother, right?"

"Your brother? No, I -"

Jane leaned forward and ran her hand up Giles' thigh. "Want me to play with your stake?" she asked in a throaty voice.

Giles leapt up, recoiling from Jane. "What are you DOING, Miss Lane?" he almost shouted.

"Don't mess around, Mr. Giles. I know my brother must have sent you. You must have already paid him, right? Come on..." She gave her best imitation of an alluring smile. "You know you want it."

Giles was fuming. "I most certainly do NOT want it, Miss Lane. And I'd be very much interested in hearing the breadth of your brother's activities."

Jane suddenly looked very small and frightened. "Uh...I should go..." She attempted to make a run for it, but Giles' hand wrapped around her wrist like a vise.

"Please, Miss Lane. I insist."

XXXX

Trent awoke with a sputter and a yelp as the cold water splashed over his head. He looked around and saw that he was in what appeared to be a wooden shed with a dirt floor. Moonlight shone through the cracks in the walls.

In front of him stood a man with an empty bucket in one hand. "Ah, good, you're awake," he said. His voice sent chills through Trent's spine.

"Who the hell are you?" Trent snarled.

"My name...well, my name is unimportant, but you may call me Ripper."

"What the hell kind of name is that?"

'Ripper' grinned. "You're about to find out. 


	12. AU: My Best Slayer 2

Jane let herself become lost in thought as she delivered the steady one-two rhythm of punching the large bag Mr. Giles had erected in her basement.

At first, she was terrified that Mr. Giles was a cop, and was going to arrest Trent. Trent was cagey enough and had just enough connections through her 'business' that the charges never stuck, and once he got out he usually took his anger out on her. However, Mr. Giles didn't sound like any cop or social worker she had ever known, and before long she had told him just enough answers in response to his comfort and gentle questions that he seemed satisfied and left.

When she got home that night after fighting down the urge to have a panic attack for nearly an hour at the library, she found that Trent was nowhere to be found. She had expected a CPS worker to be waiting for her, but that bit part of the play Jane had been in so many times before was vacant.

The next three days were like a dream she might have if she were incredibly feverish, with the heat baking her brain and making her hallucinate.

Trent never returned home. Her clients began disappearing, or occasionally being found dead in their homes, horribly mangled. Tommy Sherman, who was supposed to make an appearance at the school a few weeks down the road, had been hacked to pieces - parts of his body were still missing, as they had been strewn from inside his apartment building to deep within the woods just outside the apartment's grounds.

Mr. Giles was absent those three days as well. Ms. Li normally threw a shit fit whenever a teacher blew off work, but as the library generated very little use by the student body, Jane wasn't sure Ms. Li even noticed.

Finally, on the fourth day, she woke up to find a number of her fellow students had confessed teary-eyed to engaging the services of an 'unwilling, underage prostitute', as the papers put it. Not a single one of them was willing to name her, to the frustration of police and protective services, but nearly all of them were expelled from Lawndale High and sentenced to juvenile prison for the rest of their minority years.

Mr. Giles returned that day too, and ignored any questions about Trent, or Tommy Sherman, or any other related topics.

That night, he had begun training her.

He had taken her to a graveyard, at the site of a fresh grave, and waited. She was still half-convinced that Mr. Giles was nuts, until the clawed hand dug its way through the loose soil and the nightmarish face followed soon after. The creature spotted Jane and made it three steps before the crossbow bolt pierced it from behind and it...exploded into ash, incinerating its clothes and the bolt in the process. Mr. Giles lowered the crossbow and gave his first lecture, on the attributes, strengths, and weaknesses of the vampire.

Jane had yet to face another vampire. When she asked how long he expected her training to be, he figured it would take longer than usual, given Jane's traumas - four to six weeks. She was truly astonished at the great strengths and speeds she was now capable of, and the way she took to learning how to fight frightened her a little.

One day, she had asked Mr. Giles the inevitable question: What happened to the last Slayer?

He remained quiet for some time, and Jane almost thought he wasn't going to answer. Until, finally, he did.

"She's dead," he said, barely above a whisper.

"Oh...I'm sorry. What did the other Slayers think?"

Mr. Giles sighed. "There's only one other Slayer, and I'm not her Watcher...I never really was, actually."

"Why aren't there more Slayers?"

"Jane...we fight the forces of darkness. Sometimes the darkness wins."

Jane nodded, a grim look on her face. It hadn't really occured to her, but it came as no surprise either.

"Did you...know...the last Slayer?" Jane asked. She hesitated, but was curious to know.

Mr. Giles nodded. "I did...for nearly two years. She was stubborn, argumentative, a real pain in the ass...and I miss her so much, it burns."

Jane thought about this for a minute. "How did she die?"

"There is...a test, one that Slayers who reach their eighteenth birthday must undertake. It's little more than an archaic exercise in cruelty - a Slayer is robbed of her powers and trapped with a vampire, in order to test her intelligence. And my Slayer failed."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Giles," Jane said.

The man shook his head. "Don't say that, Miss Lane. It was entirely my fault - I was the one who gave Buffy the drugs which suppressed her strength, and I should burn in hell for that." He looked Jane in the eyes again. "I swore I would never make the same mistake again. I swore I would protect my Slayer from anything which would harm her...anything."

That night, Jane slept easy for the first time in years. The look in Mr. Giles' eyes told her she would never see Trent again. 


End file.
